What's the third?
by Meadowlark12
Summary: Past denial and impulse, Addison is determined to take the proper steps that are supposed to lead her to life as she knew it before Derek took off to Seattle, with a lot of help. Little does she know. ADDEK Endgame and the adult way to stay true to our deepest forces in order to move forward.
1. Prologue - Manhattan, NYC

_Authors notes: Hi, thank you very much for giving a chance to my brain. Thank you for reading and thank you for loving ADDEK because it is my very favorite coping mechanism to avoid my own reality._

 _This chapter starts in New York, a few days before wonderful powerful Addison stepped into Seattle Grace. As of this point, it follows the timeline of their story as we originally saw it, only for now._

 _I do not own anything regarding Grey's Anatomy and love Shonda for having such an adorable yet heart breaking mind._

* * *

 **Prologue**

Manhattan, NY.

"My hands are aging"

She's staring at her palms resting on her lap; the pale contrast with her black fitted dress allows her to analyze them meticulously. "I mean, they're starting to age. I always thought Vivian's hands were beautiful, when I was her student. They were sharp and boney like mine, but they looked… old."

She turns them around, closes them in fist, and opens them again. Turns and twists as if testing their strength. "I thought they meant she had had a hard working life… I'd wonder if my hands would ever age like that. And I'm a surgeon so I do work with my hands. It's only logical. But I'm 38 and they'd always looked the same." Aging hands mean history, stories and the sense of tact. Life, in her case. Her hands and a scalpel.

The room is backlit with the glass wall that overlooks Park Avenue; it makes the stone on her left hand shine if she lifts it. Of course her hands have not remained the same, the rings weren't always there. Her entire life is based on them at the moment. If only she'd known. She corrects the thought out loud. "Not the same, but you know. They're aging" both bands wrap her finger with a heaviness that was new about two months ago. She's grown accustomed to it, it grounds her.

"Addison?" She lifts her gaze back to Dr. Myrtle Blake - the most patient of therapists sent by some mystic cosmic miracle that made her notice her discrete sign on the only day she chose to walk all the way down from 98th St. where she had a consult at Mount Sinai onto Yorkville – who is waiting for her to respond. Addison blinks, breathes deeply, holds it for a second and lets out a quiet - tired exhale. She doesn't reply.

"Addison, you're deflecting" Dr. Blake affirms, at the edge of her seat, looking at Addison above her oversized cat-eye glasses.

She instantly recovers her posture with the intention of looking a little more present. "I'm not. I had thought about it and hadn't said it out loud"

"I asked you if you felt like trying", Dr. Blake speaks with the diction of a children's language tutor. "And you're saying you'd rather discuss the symbolism of your hands aging. I don't mind, it has depth. But it's not answering my question"

"I know", it's not that she doesn't understand the question. She just hopes that the answer comes by itself and programs her to automatically act on it. She shifts on the leather couch, it reminds her of the furniture she chose for the brownstone she loves and has not set foot on since… well since then. "You know, you and I have similar taste. For interiors, I'd say"

"Do you want to talk about aging, then?" the middle-aged blonde woman holds a fountain pen against her notepad, ready to develop the subject.

"Time goes by" Addison is now noticing how Myrtle's hands show lines, wrinkles. They're manicured, polished nude nails; she wears a fine golden wedding band and a quartz watch that matches her understated elegance. Why did she end up having a warm, older and chubbier version of Bizzy as her therapist?

"So does this session" Myrtle states in hope of focus. Addison looks up again, wishing she could stop losing herself in the torrent that this introspection thing has brought along ever since she started coming, it's only been three weeks, twice a week, six hours and she can't stop the pace. At times she wonders if it would have been safer to not know any better, to not want to repair herself, or the damage caused.

Dr. Blake asks again, "Do you feel like trying?"

"Have I told you how he'd look at me?" A wave of nausea invades her whenever Derek shows up in her mind. Which is a constant now.

"You have" Safe, she doesn't have to think about it too much then.

"I do. I feel like pushing and forcing and putting myself aside. It's not like I haven't done it before. I feel like I do. But this isn't about me or what I want"

Dr. Blake lays back in her chair, glad that they're back on track. "Okay. Do you feel like trying?"

"I just said I did. But he's not…" Dr. Blake raises her voice to speak over Addison's, "I did not ask you about him or how he feels. You don't know that. Neither do I."

"I do", Addison says with certainty. As true as that might be, Myrtle makes an effort to prevent her from going backward, she's past this, she knows better.

"This _is_ about you, right now. In this exact place. You and me. And we're figuring _you_ out. Not him. Not you as a couple. You as an individual. Do you, as an individual, feel like trying?" Dr. Blake insist, this is the testing stage, the one they get to on every session when they are about to reach a progressive conclusion to any subject.

"I do"

"You do what?"

Addison looks away and raises an eyebrow, never has she ever liked being told what to do, or think, not by anyone. Except Dr. Myrtle Blake, because she's here with the specific purpose of seeking for guidance, in other words: for being told what to do and what to think. She gives in. In her way. "You just asked me"

"I asked you what?"

"If I feel like trying"

"Like trying what?" Myrtle enjoys this. She knows.

Addison leans back and crosses her arms, she chooses to look at the clock tick, anything that can distract her and keep her from bursting into tears "Like, trying to face it all." She purses her lips and decides that she wants this over as soon as possible, so she tries her true best. "Like trying to face it all instead of avoiding it?"

Dr. Blake takes this in. She nods in approval, smiles with pride "What's the next step?", they've been over this, she pushes Addison to listen to herself.

"To… um, to fix things"

"What things?" Dr. Blake encourages her.

"Myself I mean"

"No. You're doing that just now" Half a step back, though at this pace, Dr. Blake accepts it and keeps on leading her toward her way out.

"The things that are on my end. Whatever concerns me… or him? But that _I_ can do. And fix"

"And so?" Dr. Blake forbears.

"Seattle" And she suddenly feels cold, she crosses her legs tight, places both her hands on her knee, bracing herself for her own battle.

"You are going to Seattle" Dear teacher Dr. Blake makes sure Addison is conscious of her remarks.

"I am going to Seattle"

"Okay, but that's not the very next step" one last very important detail and she will let her breathe.

"Mark" There it is.

"You're talking to Mark" Dr. Blake says matter of factly.

"I'm… _leaving_ Mark" Addison is responding without elaboration. She takes deep breaths, she arches her back and is using her words. She feels adult for the very first time in the past year.

"You said you were no longer with him"

"I'm not. I have to talk to him to make it clear that we are not… together. I… I'm sorry, I haven't really spoken to him since..." Dr. Blake nods, giving her an out and allowing her to skip the story. It was last week's subject. Mark, the nurse, how she thought she deserved it, the guilt for actually wanting that to happen so she could have a reason beyond her that would push her back to sanity, to what she came looking for three weeks before that, everything that led to actual progress. Then Richard called, and Dr. Blake would love to send him flowers for granting promptitude to Addison's silent requests on first, finding out where her husband was and second, having to confront him. A month that has lasted a lifetime in the very upset-classy-ginger-neonatal-surgeon's life.

"Is this the last time I see you? I don't think this is over. Is this… I… this is just starting. Oh, wow. This is barely starting" Addison adjusts her hair behind her ears in a reflective manner. A glimpse of hope, she feels numb, it still takes a slight ache on her chest to recognise that this is her present, that all she knows is not as it was and will never be. Myrtle smiles tenderly. The first hard part of her job is done.

"So it is? This is the last time I see you?" Addison insists, in obvious brief denial.

"You're leaving the day after tomorrow" Dr. Blake says, as a replacement of an affirmation.

Addison looks her in the eyes and swallows what feels like a gallon of tears. Nods, then settles her gaze back to the clock that starts to ring. It's time.

"Addison," Dr. Blake leans forward, pushes the golden tissue box toward her patient on the coffee table between them, boundaries. And Addison despises the fact that she feels close to undoing it all, going back to ignoring everyone's calls and not saying out loud what she feels, she wishes she could blame Myrtle for making her feel abandoned as she goes and does what she knows is right.

The clock rings again.

"You can call me. I will not disappear. You still have a lot to face, we're doing this together." Dr. Blake reassures her, means every word and wishes she weren't so sharp with time so that the clock didn't have to ring and do the job of her.

Addison grabs her coat and as she stands up, there's two hefty tears that make their way out and fall somewhere between her folded arms and her hopes. She knows better. Dr. Blake approaches her and hugs her tight. "No, Addison. Don't hold back. I know you got this."

The clock rings again. It breaks them apart and Addison manages to smile gratefully. Places both hands under her eyes to pat her face dry. And then Dr. Blake uses her own words in her favor.

"You don't quit"

* * *

 _I'm sharing a part of my heart here, so thank you for reading! Have a wonderful weekend and if you find it in your heart: please review. (:_


	2. Chapter I

_**Authors Notes:** I have to say that I am thrilled to be thinking about this all day. I am also eternally grateful to those of you who've taken the time to review, read, scan, whatever you have done with my mere 1,800 words that I know have to expand. This is a very very short first part of the development of Addison's options. In case there's anyone who needs a reminder of context: this takes time the night Addison arrives to Seattle Grace. _

_Also, I'll be on the road most of the day tomorrow so I promise you I'm only posting this so it's out of my heart already, but tomorrow comes more of it._

 _On to the windy, quiet night that changed our lives forever._

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - Options**

Seattle, WA

There's a desk and a woman who can tell her where to go in order to fin Richard, hug Richard, thank Richard. Derek is tomorrow, but maybe she could ask if he's around, or bump into him, maybe he will even want to talk later, or tomorrow since it's late. No forcing. He hasn't returned a single phone call and she tries every day, several times a day. But then she could swear she heard his voice and by muscle memory turns around to see if it happens to be him.

Cursing herself she stares, the inaudible scream that flusters her entire skull is making the room spin. It might be a trance, she might have not stepped into the hospital yet and is making up scenarios. The girl: she's small, she's too small for him. She regains strength, grateful that she was taught to dress to impress. Per every chance there is to be the bigger person in the room, step aside and be an observer, there's also the chance to stand out and be a Forbes Montgomery. Her blood has been boiling for a set of nine exact seconds. She's about to say his name out loud, make him turn and see her. A deep inhale tenses her jaw and as she's about to act there it is.

He looks her in the eye. She can see the exact moment his smile fades. His guard is down. Perfect time to suppress. She starts walking chip up high, hopes that his regretful vibe might be because she caught him cheating. After she takes the first step it's all a blur.

. . .

She could spend a lifetime without saying a word. Time could freeze or flash forward and she could be still. Although this state only magnifies whatever her current storm is.  
When she was little it would haunt how much she felt like going to crawl into her parents' bed but would then judge herself and wondered if there was something wrong with her for having forbidden needs. " _Lord, is she clingy._ " Bizzy would say to the other people in the room, as if she weren't there.  
When she was in college it drove her to keep up with standing out. Processing what for anyone could be too much information was easy for her. Silence was her constant. Even though she was afraid of it. Would that mean she learnt to stay afraid? Silent. Afraid was her normal. Derek was all over her silence when he showed up in her life. The new normal was the most enchanting of silences. She was silent to listen to him, to observe him, to feel him and then to miss him.

One more time and if there's no answer, she's not showing up tomorrow. Better said today.

"I thought you said no midnight calls", she's standing next to the bed. It's too big. Too broad.

"It's past midnight. Way past.", Dr. Blake has a serene tone that she appreciates.

"Why did you pick up?... I'm sorry" She sits on the bed, sighs in relief.

"I can listen."

""He was adjusting her collar. Myrtle, you have no clue."

"Who are you talking about?", Dr. Blake asks even though she's certain of the answer.

"Please, just. Don't. I know you know it's about Derek. I went to see Richard and I saw him first. I mean I did see Richard, I was not ready to see him like that. Not yet, he was tomorrow. Tomorrow.", the speed at which she speaks doesn't surprise Myrtle, Addison babbles.

"You knew he was seeing someone. You were warned."

"No. I was not warned like that. Seeing someone is not... adjusting her collar."

"You're taking the collar adjustment as a sign of intimacy."

"You know this better than me."

"I don't, Addison. Some people are attentive."

"I blacked out. I was my mother's dream come true. I was all dressed up, it was late I don't even know why I went, I should have stayed here and wait for morning."

"I thought you said you went to see Richard." Myrtle tries to bring some sense back so she can help further. In case she can at all. Addison's current state is not exactly one where she is at her best disposal to think thoroughly. She ignores Myrtle's statement.

"I insulted her. I was territorial", she attempts to close her eyes but every time she dares to blink she sees him seeing the blonde girl who she could even feel sorry for if she weren't sorry for herself first. "How am I going to erase what he saw? I can't get past his hands on her. He saw me with Mark, I... we were on my bed, on our bed." She allows herself to cry knowing she's not seen by anyone, and also because she cannot really get herself to control it. "I can't… It's painful. I can't close my eyes. I can't get past his hands on her."

"On her coat you mean."

"It is the exact same."

Dr. Blake permits this fatalization, respects the reaction, gives her a few seconds and then adds patiently, "What are you going to do?"

"My first option is out.", Addison thinks out loud in the form of a whisper.

"Oh. You have options?", Dr. Blake asks and after getting no response she strives again "What was the first?"

"I thought about it. One of three ways." "I could apologize, he could forgive me, we go home and move on with our lives. Like adults."

"Adults?"

"That was the first"

"I'm sorry to inform you that this is the best way to detach "

"From him? This is not it. I was not coming to detach. We never… I never have… Derek is my husband."

"I don't mean from him. Although, we can work that later in case…"

"No."

"I didn't mean from him. Not yet. Perhaps."

"Detach"

"You planned. Was that outcome your only option? I would have appreciated to know you had a plan."

"I just. I more of like, thought it was the only end. I never thought… his smile faded. I wish you could have seen him. And him. His hair, I… his hair is longer." She stays nonvocal, absent minded.

A minute passes by, Dr. Blake carries forward elaborating the concept, "Detach from the first option."

"He _chased_ her and when he came back in he seemed helpless. He was too close and we said hurtful things, or so I think. Not really. I don't even know. I guess he might have not even said anything but I was pushing myself to be distant and cold and sharp but his hair kept distracting me because it was different and I was leaving I even mentioned it, I tried to touch it and he pushed me away and then I said it again."

"You only mentioned his hair?"

"No I, no. It was about work and… no. I, that's all I could think about. I have no idea. I said other things, he said other things. I was not feeling or thinking. It was the goal of self control.", she chuckles in disbelief at her own words, "I know that I sound delusional." Perhaps she could lull herself to sleep.

"No. You're back to impulsive. And ' _move on like adults_ ', that's denial. Again. This is your blonde hair all over again. Go to work tomorrow. Face him. Talk. If he doesn't want to, which he probably won't…" There's a loud knock on the door. Dr. Blake might still be talking but there comes a new one, and another one. She almost recognizes it. She forces herself to stand up, her bare feet drag her to the entrance. The light under the door is still blocked. She closes her eyes, phone still in her hand, she didn't even find the time to take her tight clothes off, hadn't even realized they were tight until now because they are keeping her from exploding. She turns the doorknob and when she opens her eyes there, of course, is him.


	3. Chapter I - Part II

_**Author's notes**_ _: I am sorry that this was split in two.._

 _I appreciate your reviews so much! Thank you for taking the time to read, and thank you for being so kind._

 _It's still the night we got to meet her._

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - Options. Part II.**

He holds the door open firmly when she tries to close it in his face. Her phone is still in her hand. He must have been standing in the storm for a while. Everything conspires to make it all seem dramatic. His paleness concerns her but it's no time to ask.

"Leave", he demands on a hoarse voice.

He glances down to the phone on her hand, she realizes she never hung up and without explanation she ends the call with her trembling right thumb. Myrtle comes later, she must have heard him anyway, she'll get it, might even be relieved to be able to get back to sleep.

"How did you find me?", is all she manages to say.

His eyes are tired, he's Derek but doesn't look like himself, this broken version is one she collaborated to construct. "Richard told me. How is that relevant?"

"Derek, please come in. You must be freezing." She tries to grab his arm, he backs off. "I know you hate me but we can't fight in the hallway, people are sleeping. Please, come in."

"I didn't come here to fight with you. Leave. Leave her alone and leave me alone, and just... leave.", and as her eyes start to water she swallows back a couple of tears but doesn't manage to keep them in so she just looks down.

Regaining strength she clears her throat, "I'm not leaving. It's past midnight. I have to work tomorrow. Richard expects me.", she glances up after the lack of response and he's silently crying with a frustration she's rarely seen and takes her chances, tries to place her hand by his jaw and when he lets her they just stay still.

"Derek, please. I hate this, look at us." He is worn out, focusing on the floor. "Will you please come in?", at the sound of her voice he locks his eyes with hers.

She feels cold when she sees it. "Are you?...Oh." Her voice barely audible, she draws her hand back and every single effort she's put into hoping crumbles down, it hits her like the announcement of a loss. It's her who takes a step back now.

"You care about her."

For one thing, she was aware of the situation, Richard minimized it though. Breathing turns challenging as they stand in mute. He finally walks past her into the room, looking fragile, he sits on the floor with his back against the side of the bed, his knees bent to his chest. She hands him a towel, he takes it but doesn't do anything with it.

"Derek, it's freezing. Please." Her voice is soft, can't welcome the foreign scenario where she is unable to hand him a change of clothes because they are not sharing a room for the first time since she can remember.

"Stop. I'm okay." He gives in and looks up to her. At the urgency of sorting what's going to happen next, she mirrors his position next to him on the floor.

"Look…", she tries to reason, takes her time. "I'm here for work. If you… want me to leave… I will take this case and then go. But we have to, um, figure out… I mean, Derek we are still married."

He nods once, arches his neck back.

Her current role in their circumstances is to nurse their relationship for the two of them. Her job is to love him with all of their history, with all of the shared responsibility he won't admit they both hold for the current scenario. True to her word, the intention is that one. Up until now, she has managed not to rage back, giving him the high horse might help. What makes it almost impossible to bear is that the built tension is not only about him being angry at her, this is about someone else. Which in her case was not something -someone- ever worth defending, if not for the fact that she wanted to prove herself some alternate ending to the colossal consequences of her terrible habit of thinking time would make everything easier.

As easy as it was to assume that all it took was for her to do the work for them and put them back together.

Easy as texting Mark once she landed in Seattle: " _I'm sorry. This was a terrible mistake. I'm in Washington for work and Derek."_ then ignoring his calls, followed by blocking his number. He'll come around. He knew the outcome. After that she checked the first step done in the list on her mind. Cowardly done, but it was over.

Making up with with Derek was always as easy as she wanted it to be, she was always the one to decide when their fits were over, when to give in, their well-known dance that no matter the motive ended in celebratory-angry sex. Lingering their fights was part of their game.

Was.

Before Derek faded gradually until he was gone for good, with her help on the final push. Which she shouldn't call final. Final stands for end. He's angry at her, not done. Or at least that's what she tells herself and what she should remind him.

Grateful that his breathing has steadied and he won't move, she shifts her position next to him and turns to face him. Giving him space, not touching him, afraid of scaring him off.

"Derek?"

He looks at her, his broken gaze unreadable. She winces at this image wishing she could undress him out of his torn damped clothes and make sure he falls asleep under her watch. Then feels sorry for herself because she's not managing to hate him for crying in front of her out of a tantrum for apparently breaking up with another woman. Girl.

"I came for work, but… um, because I was told you were here. You do know that we _have_ to talk, right?", she explains rhetorically. "I really am sorry. For every single mistake but mostly for having to do with whatever this girl meant-"

"Meant?", he interrupts her, his tone is unfamiliarly sharp. "I wish I had never met you. In fact, you are a stranger to me now, Addison."

And with that he gets up, with no sight of the crumbled Derek that first came in.

She's brought back to conscious with the slam of the door and looks down to the towel next to her.

As useless as the entire effort that it took for her to get this far.

Option one: outruled.

* * *

 _Thank you, and I promise I will update full chapters and not split them like the previous one. It is unfair, even to me._

 _I love them. Have a nice weekend fellow Addek loverssss._


	4. Chapter II

_**Author's notes:** Hi! Thank you with my entire heart for coming back here!_

 _I took forever to update because this story took life of its own and I had sort of a hard time to finish the enormous puzzle that it became. I'm glad I was finally able to polish this chapter! This is where the story officially takes off. I hope you enjoy! (:_

* * *

 **Chapter II**

"You told her."

"Once she was willing to listen, yes. This isn't about you. Addison, please step away."

"No.", it's probably only him who noticed the slight stump of her ridiculously high stiletto against the floor. Her childish stubbornness when it came to holding her ground before him and only him used to soften his will. He could tease her about it, only he won't since it would make this argument fall in the category of marital sport and he's not close to give in.

"Fine." He walks past her and presses for the elevator, it takes a second for it to come down. Empty, thank the Lord.

She follows him in. The way she has for the past 36 hours, only stopping for work and pretending to sleep. It's been almost a choreographed game.

To her surprise, he pulls the elevator to an abrupt stop. If she wants to hear it, she will. At least she's glad they're arguing inside an elevator on hold and not in the midst of a full hospital staff or in the hallway of a hotel with sleeping guests behind other doors.

"I did think.", he starts.

"About what?"

"You asked if I'd thought about you being satan… and an adulterous bitch. Love of my life." He looks at her. Distant. "I still feel like things change."

"Do you want them to?"

"You didn't ask before, you made the choice for us both. Like always, with everything."

"Great. Okay, you're staying with her then."

He's almost offended and turns to her, shakes his head.

"Are you enjoying this? She doesn't talk to me, Addison."

When he pushes for the elevator to start working its way up again, she pulls it to stop again. Due to this, the brief loss of balance calls to muscle memory and one of her hands comes up with the intention of holding herself steady by placing it on his chest. She manages to stop it, millimeters away from his lab coat. He looks at it and she immediately takes it back. Folds her arms.

"Sorry."

He has a questioning look and she remembers she was the one to trap them there now. On to the point. She tries to focus.

"Derek, how do you expect her to forgive you if you can't even give me five minutes to talk."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well you can't forgive me for what you found out _one_ night of my life and you want her to forgive you for what she found out about the past _sixteen_ years of yours."

"Eleven."

"We have been together for sixteen, Derek."

"How have I pulled that off? 'Guess we'll never know."

"You are the most sanctimonious person in the entire world."

"Of course you couldn't just call me _hypocrite."_ The elevator is pushed to work again and he gets out on the first floor where doors open. If he can drive across an entire country to get away from her, he can walk his way up. Or at least wait until the other elevator comes.

And so it happens in repeat. The same denied interaction in different scenarios and days.

An entire week.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

"Are you using tough love on me? That's inverse psychology, I know how this works."

"Tough love is a term for friends, Addison. I am your therapist. If you want to move forward and you want to include me: you call, I help you, I bill you. I couldn't possibly play games on you in such way."

"Myrtle, I call you by your name."

"You asked me if you could and I allowed it, it doesn't mean anything further than that."

"Do I annoy you?"

"Addison, my clearing terms to you is not annoyance. If something, I am worried. Are you okay?"

"It's not like you've asked."

"You hung up on me."

The past eight days have served as a constant trial for rationality. The morning that followed her arrival she tried to fight back with class, arranged for Meredith Grey to be in her team with the purpose of talking to her. Work related: doors would open on their own. As for Derek, she wasn't herself since he would only insult her on every encounter.

"Well, yes. A lot has happened."

"I would expect it to."

"But you haven't asked"

"It is not my job to push you to share. I will always listen, but not at the expense of what I want to know. It's rather what you want to work on."

The rocking chair and the closed door to the NICU allow her to feel safe enough to give in detail the experience of how she'd gone through what felt like several lives. It's been emotionally and physically demanding, not only for her but for mostly everyone involved - and not involved-, Richard was finally coming back even if only to be present, those interns and their mixed up storylines, the Grey kid tormented by the great Ellis Grey herself and on top of all, the weight she carries for not being able to support Derek through what she knows meant for Dr. Burke to be chosen to cover as chief.

"What makes you think your options are 'outruled'?" When Addison doesn't answer, Myrtle gives her an out as in to not dwell on the hotel room story, the attachment to the premature baby whose life is currently supported by thin fortune.

Silent. Respecting.

"It's utopical that this would take a sudden turn and it would be lightly solved, Addison. I understand by all means that you want to jump right back into your shared dynamic. I would love to assure you that patience will take you there. I can't do that."

"But this case, though-"

"Of course you're attached to it because it links him to you, even if it's only medically speaking for now."

"She has no one."

"That is not your responsibility, Addison. This is not… you did the right thing when you were in such circumstances. Do your job without making this personal."

"Medicine is personal."

"I know this. But I'm sorry, you are currently unable to get involved any further in this."

"He says she's too weak, he doesn't want to help her."

"As much as it sounds like it. That might not be related to you. I would expect him to be professional like that."

"Yeah. He is. Maybe."

"Your life cannot be on hold forever, Addison. I need you to keep that in mind."

"I know that. It's not… on hold. I mean-", she takes a minute to recap every day of her eventful week in Seattle, everything that lead to her staring at the premature baby as her chest rises and falls with every painful breath, she's the materialization of how selfish it is to cling when things are far too broken. Too far gone, Derek said.

"We have to let her go." she emulates him.

"Oh, Addison. I didn't mean to push you on a medical decision-"

"He said we have to let her go in peace."

"You're going to let go, then."

"I guess I should just- yeah.", the beeping of the NICU lulls her, it's nearly a meditation. She swallows back her entire life and it somehow doesn't taste of fear. Loss is blue, but it's peaceful.

"I'm sorry.", she recognizes Myrtle's tone. Exactly what she's tasting, she uses this when it's her turn to deliver bad news. She has Dr. Blake but brought the outcome on herself.

"I'll talk to Richard."

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

She begins to question if there's some purposeful mystic plan around her closure.

Dr. Yang was an intern and as much as she could be dismissive on their lives, she was aware of her closeness to Meredith Grey. By any means could she dare to refuse to take part and do her best the only place she felt capable of being useful. Then Preston was there. The attending who slept with the smart intern, got her pregnant and is now vulnerably laying both their hopes on her expertise. Every attempt to work without background was out of question in this hospital. Like a limbo between reality and introspection. You came in, you didn't come out before unfolding your deepest fears and working through them. Uniformly as constructive as it was destructive. Or the other way around. Who knew at this point.

She scrubs out, past Dr. Bailey and her adorable matriarchy. She's wishing she had that and the thought is interrupted by the sight of a concerned Derek Shepherd. He bumps into her, for a second they're familiar, old friends.

"Your girlfriend wasn't here until after the surgery. Bailey was. Yang, you know, she'll be okay.", as though why was she giving him facts foregoing his approach to Grey, remains a mystery. Perhaps not much so, the old friend part, she'd take it if this is what it'd take. "Preston was worried sick."

"Preston?", he looks at her, taken aback. Dr. Preston Burke had been nothing but restrictive to Derek as a colleague, Richard chose him to be chief during his brain surgery recover and if something, he's been truly attentive to her. The way women, and specially Addison manage to get things without asking always marvels him. "Why do you call him that?"

"Dr. Burke." Addison rolls her eyes at him and walks away.

A few steps and he takes a risk by placing his palm in Meredith's arm. "Hey-"

"Derek, no-"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I'm not. Your wife just saved Christina's life, my mother is here, I have had the worst possible day, month, year. Please. I have said this in every possible way. Do you need me to learn a new language? Leave me alone. And out of this.", as her voice rises, Miranda Bailey comes closer behind Derek. Meredith gestures for her to let him finish. He looks around him and back to her, whispers hope. Tries to touch her face, she steps slightly back.

"She's leaving as soon as she's done. It's just work, I already told you-"

When she processes the information the sudden intimacy is broken, it comes as a contradiction. "But aren't you operating? Izzie told me that she's stronger."

"What? The preemie?", he's suddenly embarrassed to be finding out something that should concern him.

"How do you _not know_ that?"

"This morning she wasn't."

"It's been way, way too long since that, you haven't been to NICU?"

"I was in the O.R., I-"

"Derek, you really are a disappointment, you know?", Meredith whimpers and stops the rest of her unstoppable tears with her sleeve. She brushes him as she vanishes out with Bailey right behind her who this time happens to be too focused on solving, temporarily not judging.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

A stinging headache blurs his vision, he takes in the night light coming in at the catwalk, he's leaning with both hands on the railing. Meredith's unlucky enough to cross paths with him, by herself. She's always with someone lately, everybody seems to think he will harm her. Not that he hasn't, but she's overprotected. He did that. It's guilt turnt into a small beautiful blonde and her very offended friends.

He turns to her and she hesitates but stops, smiles in truce.

"I miss you", he starts. Barely audible.

"Dr. Shepherd, excuse me. I am certain that my intern was not in your staff today." Dr. Bailey loudly approaches them, Chief Webber by her side, he wonders if the hospital isn't big enough or if it's just a carefully arranged conspiration to always draw them close, "Dr. Grey, unless this is medical, which I am sure is not, go on to wherever you're headed. Now."

"Of course.", she goes her own way and he's suddenly annoyed at how she lets everybody decide for her.

"I wasn't doing anything.", he blurts to Bailey.

"Let her breathe. Stop being personal."

"Stay out of this. I outrank you."

"Dr. Shepherd. What on Earth are you doing bullying Dr. Bailey like that?", Richard comes between them both, fed up of their rants.

"I wasn't-"

"I have no idea who you are these days.", Dr. Webber shakes his head in disbelief.

"Dr. Bailey, is there anything we can do for you?"

"Get the neurosurgeon a new brain.", at Richard's glare she drops the battle. "No, sir."

"I expect the two of you to remain professional.", he eyes them both and then regards Dr. Bailey, "Go."

"Yes, sir.", she obliges the chief, not without glancing at Derek before. He shifts his position back to leaning on the railing, looking out the massive window.

"Derek, honestly, you are almost causing me another tumor. Are you gonna be okay?", unresponsive. Richard pushes, "Ever?" he's taking his chances by staying silent, perhaps it'll make his mentor stop confronting him, "What are you doing with this intern?, where did all of the worship you and Addison had for each other go?"

"Those are too many questions.", he takes them in, yet doesn't plan to glimpse at the depth they sustain. "You knew. Being chief…", he reconsiders what he's unfolding and stops before it worsens his headache.

"Now does it really come to that? I'll make you chief later on if that's what it takes. As personal as you took it. And as angry as I am with you. You let it get too bad. I am an old man, Derek, I know what I'm telling you. Adele has put up with my stubbornness Lord knows how and thought it's annoying and I do not deserve her loyalty, I'd rather have it that way. Addison is chasing after you, fool. What is the matter with you?"

"I don't know, it was all- Mount Sinai."

Richards shrugs, "They're not thrilled. Addie made a mistake, stop dwelling. You took off, you resigned, so what?."

"It's more complicated than it sounds."

"I am no shrink. If you want to talk, do. Go take a drink, I don't know. Think about where you took part. Make up. Grow the hell up. Find out where this began and stop it."

When he's finally left alone, the hospital slows down behind him. He forces his headache away by pondering every event of their downfall. They start floating one by one.

It started a little over two years ago. After the city was put under tension and loss, she wanted an out on big hospitals.

Sam and Naomi moved to Santa Monica.

They were all prospecting a practice together.

 _Move to the beach._

 _Have kids._

They offered her chief, she resigned, stayed leading neonatal, she wanted to slow down.

He hated the beach, but wanted the rest.

Then he became Manhattan's Mount Sinai Hospital's Chief of Surgery, she hadn't mentioned she was the first option.

He bought The Hamptons so she could get the beach part.

Since she only wanted things done her way the intention to grow their family was put on standby. Either they slowed down or it wasn't going to happen.

His family was on her side, his mother torn between grandchildren and his success as a doctor. Everybody always getting too involved, their close friends, his family, her brother even. Always pushing, asking questions.

Then arguing he told her she was jealous of him and couldn't be happy for him. She fought back, told him she turned down the position, that he was the second option.

Exclusively out of rage he asked if she then married him knowing he would never be a threat to overcome her - being certain that it was not her fault that she was effortlessly brilliant, things were given to her without forcing- he only wanted to hurt back. It worked.

" _How dare you think that? I didn't realize our entire relationship meant a competition."_

They made up when she asked who he was trying to impress and he said he owed it to his father, all of his efforts and himself. She was comprehensive about it. Gave up the idea of California but also asked him to wait until she could convince herself that she could adjust to their circumstances.

They made it complicated; not wanting the same thing at the same moment was yet new territory for them.

He backed her up to open their practices in the city, thinking this could slow down her mind and occupy her enough. The purpose was for her to gradually make the transition from her hectic agenda to one that could allow them to welcome their children.

But then his practice was mainly hers, not once did he take part in the process. Mark had the time, he was not leaving her alone in the sorting out of the adjustment of their careers.

The annoyance of her nagging regarding the practices and home, not only by her but by all people close to them, drove him to commit to the hospital until everyone stopped trying to reach him.

Two full calendars flew by and the times he did go home to sleep were constantly interrupted by the wave of nausea he'd get at how she had ruined the taste of his success. Blaming her for making him feel responsible.

They stopped bringing the subject up until it wasn't even an issue. They learnt to cohabitate in lingered anger and he could say they were okay with that.

Addison held their business for the both of them and her only flaw was that she would always make plans for them assuming he would make it. He rarely did and hoped that eventually she's stop doing that too.

Then every time he'd try to come to terms it'd be the same story.

" _Of course, Derek. We can get pregnant and then be as absent as we wish. A chief and a department head. I survived my messed up parents, why would our children not?"_

" _Okay, great. Let's go back in time and be the school teacher and his housewife."_

" _The most one-sided mind I know."_

" _Takes one to know one."_

 _His pager would go off and things would stop at that._

They missed each other. Didn't handle their issues well. Pushed each other further apart and hurt themselves in the process.

Love? That was never in question. They carried it with them, imprinted on each other's skin enough not to doubt themselves, on their last names and their left hand. Until Addison blinded him with rage and he settled for cutting the rest of his life off.

He goes over this at least twice and when the retrospective ends, he pictures her above him not more than an hour ago at the NICU, tries to stay there.

Not backward, not forward.

 _I just know I still love you._

 ** _..._**

* * *

 **...**

"I kissed him."

Addison meticulously pronounced the words staring at her own lips as she said them in front of the mirror. Her phone is on speaker with Myrtle on the other line as she takes this day off.

"You also convinced him to operate."

"Not really, he never does anything he doesn't want.", she finishes applying cold cream and heads to bed.

"Then it's better, he chose to."

"What if he chooses to not forgive me?"

"Would you have taken it lightly?, if we were to invert the roles here.", the perspective makes Addison straighten her posture, abruptly stopping unfolding the duvet and adjusting the pillows, she looks straight ahead of the room for answers, but what she considered complicated feels infinitely easy.

"Would I have- yes. Yes. Heart broken, sure, but yes. I mean, I am doing _just that_. He's in love with her. Was. Is?. I guess it's still present tense. Although, I convince myself he's in some sort of trance. But… _yes._ ", when Myrtle doesn't respond she urges, "This is Derek, he could rip my heart in two, take one part of it, smash it with his hiking boots. I'd still find a way to make a new heart with the remains so I can love him with it. So, yes."

"You are aware of how full of self-hatred that is."

"You asked. And pardon me, but it is none of your business."

"It _is_ my business because you made it my business, Addison. If you have any interest in building a better relationship with him, your severe codependency has to be out of the picture."

"I know. I'm sorry."

She waits until the sudden rage goes away and then lets herself fall on the bed, shifts into a sitting position until it's comfortable enough.

"What do I do now?"

"What do you want to do?"

She speaks in almost laughter, her tone desperate,"I- Myrtle, I just really need you to tell me what to do."

"I can help by stating the facts: He won't talk to you. He is in love with someone else. Addison, you know him best. Tell me what you want to do and we can go from there."

Addison closes her eyes shortly, silently inhales and exhales. Calms herself down.

"I could wait it out. Give him time."

"You did just that for the past two months."

"No, I kept calling. If I'd known he was here it wouldn't have been that long.", as much as she knows it will make no difference, she takes a minute or several to imagine where they'd be standing if time hadn't played against them the way it has.

"Addison, are you still with me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I… he calls me Satan.", her seriousness doesn't pass unnoticed by her therapist.

"How does that make you feel?"

"I miss him."

Every sentence she completes lowers in volume, "We'd never been this cruel to each other. I cannot...I don't recognize us.", she concludes in murmur.

"Your last fight lasted two years before Mark happened, Addison."

"I guess."

"You were the one to tell me that."

Addison clears her throat, finds her voice back, "I didn't say that."

"You said you didn't even bother to fight anymore. You were carrying the weight for the two of you. It was about time you both put that into words."

"Okay, but no. We have not _put anything into words_ , he only speaks to me to insult me. It's not like we... talk, we don't really talk at all."

"Please answer my question, Addie. What do you want to do?"

"I know that I have to let go."

"Oh. Well, okay. And, how will you do that? I know it's difficult, but you've come a long way, Addison. I need you to say it out loud."

"Divorce.", Addison whispers. Undertuned enough for the thought not to startle her, she controls her breathing, makes sure her heartbeat stays stable. "I'm… going to miss him. What I said I, I do...", the end of the statement is more of a mumble to herself, "still love him."

"What do you want for him?"

"I don't want to be an obligation. I want him to _want_ to be there."

"What about you needing him, in spite of him hurting you?"

"That's not fair to him."

When Myrtle exhales, Addison neutrally notes, "I could swear you're smiling."

"Well, you are not making him responsible for you. I know it may be heartbreaking, but this is outstanding progress. You're loving him at most, Addison. This was a very transcendent day, I'd say."

Addison is quiet, her gentle respiration gradually becomes muffled sobbing, from time to time she catches her breath, she apologizes whenever she can manage to speak.

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

And so, Myrtle patiently awaits for her to anchor this resolution.

"Will you stay in line while I call my lawyer? I'll… call him on the phone in my room. Here.", Addison emerges.

"We can absolutely do that, but not right now. It's past midnight for you, three hours later here."

"I just need… I want it to be over."

"I will say this as many times as you need: you need to be patient. This is a long road."

Time goes on. Her breathing comes back to steady.

"Addison?"

"I'm here."

"Sleep it off. I'll call early, you reach out to your lawyer and we'll take it from there. Does that work for you?"

"Yeah. You're right. Okay."

As soon as she ends the call, exhaustion overtakes the pain and she's asleep.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

"For the thousandth time: we are not friends. I am not an advocate, or a witch, or a medium, at this pace I don't even feel like _praying_ for your case. Please, Shepherd."

"You are listening and replying. You come to me and say wise things and then leave. You seem trustworthy."

Derek and Miranda Bailey are way too close together for her liking, Joe's bar is crowded with fellow troubled doctors who are in minority celebrating the end of another day and the rest, trying to numb whatever their current mayhem is.

"Do I look friendly to you Joe? Approachable?"

"I'm afraid to answer.", a smiling Joe complies nonchalantly as he opens a beer that he places in the bar for some other customer.

"So I thought.", with a nod she turns to her colleague and raises her eyebrows as to confirm her past remark.

Derek shrugs his shoulders, looking down at the ice cubes of his scotch as he twirls them, "Alright then."

She takes a deep breath.

"Look, if we had a magic wand: what would you wish happened?", he smiles at her spontaneous disposal.

"Time.", he sincerely shares, "I wish I could just go back in time. Do things differently, not let it get this tangled."

"Of course. Only the impossible. I can't help you here."

"I could take off. Find another city. Have you been to Texas? It's far enough."

"How did you even graduate with this IQ?"

He laughs and shakes his head. That sort of glimpse of glee that is gone as fast as it comes.

"Do you love her? Not that I care but I'm trying to get you to think, I want this conversation to be over."

"Who her?"

"Whomever came to your mind first?"

"I don't know."

"Who?"

"I… thought of her and then Meredith. It was more of a… both of them at once."

"You don't know what you feel for neither of them? Really?"

"Addison is my family. Meredith is… I messed up there, got too involved. I care now."

"Dr. Shepherd," she disapprovingly adds, "I heard obligation on both ends."

"Not- I don't know."

"What _do_ you know?"

He's unhurried to tell so he sets his foot down on what seems clear for now, "That at least they're both still here."

"Meredith lives here, she works here."

"Addison, then. She's still here."

"Maybe you could go see her?"

"Not yet. No. I just, that's all I can take for today."

"Whatever, Shep. You men are a whole different race, I tell you."

"Thank you." he cheers

"Yeah. Anytime-", she immediately rephrases," -although not really.", she cheers back.

"Another round?", Joe suggests.

They look at each other. She nods for the both of them.

As Joe is pouring their respective glasses, she holds her left index finger up, is that a wedding band she's wearing?, "But we are drinking it in silence. Peace.", when he agrees, they toast and then it's only music, bar noise, his own thoughts.

 _My heart will always have the house I built for you there,_

 _Take your time,_

 _I'll leave a light on._

When he gulps back his scotch he feels the release he was expecting since he saw his wife.

Temporarily so, he's off to bed with the relief that maybe tomorrow it'll all be a little less confusing. As it feels now. And he very well knows what he feels, he'll just give it a rest until it's dawn and then he will allow the notion in.

 **...**

* * *

 **...**

Sunlight pierces her closed eyelids, sleeping with the curtains open is mainly for that purpose. She keeps her eyes closed for a brief moment in hope that she's either dead or everything was just a very long nightmare. When she opens them and her body still aches, she knows it's all real. Like every single morning for the past 63 days.

She stretches, sits up, grabs her phone, scrolls absent minded through her bursting inbox, only in case there's something that cannot wait and since her patients are taken care of and her case at Seattle Grace is absorbent all on itself, there usually is not. Anything related to how they are and where they are, she ignores.

She makes the call.

It takes less than five minutes.

Brett Shubbert has been her family's lawyer ever since she can reason, when she requested that the arrangements were however he knew best and all he said was that he would contact Derek's lawyer to come to terms, it tore her how easy it'd been. Taking aside the fact that "Derek's Lawyer" was "their" lawyer.

As soon as she hung up, she followed her morning ritual. On her way to Seattle Grace, tasting bitter coffee she let Myrtle know that she had been able to do it all on her own.

 _I love you enough that I will let you go._

 ** _..._**

* * *

And...scene.

To be continued, I solemnly swear.

 _I would love love love love and appreciate your reviews, almost every chapter is already mapped out and now it's just about polishing each of them. I'm more excited about it then I should._

 _Thank you for reading, you are all my true juju._

 _Happy Thursday and Happy start of Holiday season! (if that's a thing for you. I'm all bells and warm scents already since temperature dropped like three degrees but I live in the beach so that's a hell of a lot here!)_


	5. Chapter III

**Author's Notes:** _You guys have no clue how much I value your reviews! Thank you so, so much for reading and for encouraging this story. I am thrilled to be able to share it here and know that there are fellow crazy Addek lovers who read it. I truly, truly appreciate it! Happy weekend and Happy November!_

* * *

 **Chapter III**

On the twentieth missed call, she considers blocking the number but figures it could be something important, doesn't call back though.

Suddenly the light of her cellphone's screen causes her to squint her eyes. There comes a time of every day, lately, when she gets too light sensitive, sound sensitive. She flips the phone closed and proceeds to sign her name. Surrendered, they let go of the preemie and she didn't see him at all.

 _Dr. Addison Shepherd M.D._

 _In_

 _07:02hrs._

 _Out_

 _21:06hrs._

It's almost embarrassing that she always scans for his name on the atending's section of the daily record book. Every. Single. Day. He's usually too early, which means he's not sleeping well.

 _Dr. Derek C Shepherd M.D._

 _In_

 _05:43hrs._

 _Out_

\- not yet, but it doesn't make any difference because it's not like they're meeting later or at all. Also, apparently he doesn't leave the hospital for lunch.

She wonders if he has lunch at all. He does look slim. Slimmer, because he always was, not slim but fit. It makes her want to ask around if they know if he works out. Meredith must know. He stopped lifting, no gym. He hykes now, she assumes.

They're both working through lunch though, something else in common.

The vibration of her phone startles her, she glances at the caller ID and sighs in annoyance.

Susan.

She waits until it goes to voicemail. Susan's missed calls badge adds to 21.

A text. Susan, of course.

" _Addie, please call me back."_

If it were serious she would have mentioned it by now.

Her mother's assistant has always been a person she appreciates and cares for, they're close and she knows how to lay delicate information to Bizzy. Susan has rescued Addison and her brother from their mother's judgement countless times before.

An expert on crisis management.

Works great under pressure.

A problem solver.

She's a gem.

Unfortunately, while she could use talking to someone close, she's not in the mood to give out explanations on her current situation. She texted back in the morning anyway, let her know that she wasn't in New York and that she was fine.

It's late and unlike her, but she goes back to wondering about Derek's sleeping schedule and routine as she starts her car.

...

* * *

...

"We officially know you're not.", George O'Malley holds the Jane Doe file they successfully snuck out of lab. A blood test for pregnancy. It's still early enough for them to pass unnoticed.

After weeks of nausea, Meredith was under the shared suspicion that things were possibly going to be even more complicated. George, well, he has been extra attentive, as have been the rest of their friends. First they thought it was because of her and Derek's breakup, then her mother's arrival, then Christina's crash.

It's day 21 since it all started and regardless of her disposal to let it all just go, the drowsiness won't leave her. They all headed earlier to the hospital to figure it out before the morning briefing. Yesterday and today.

"Great, I'm just permanently affected then.", she blurts.

Izzie Stevens, Christina Yang and Alex Karev are going through the lab results over and over. Internship takes such a physical toll on young doctors, even though it's not something they'd admit, any sort of distraction helps as a booster.

"It's not complicated to read, stop being nosy.", ignoring their tease and complaints at his seriousness, George takes it from them and looks around the closed curtain of the furthest corner at the E.R. to make sure they are still alone. He heads to plan B then, "here, at least it'll make you feel better.", he offers comfort in the form of a metoclopramide shot. It takes no genius to know it works and they all have no intention of losing any more time.

She closes her eyes, ready for the slight pinch, but opens them at the sound of the curtain being abruptly slid open.

"What in the world?", Dr. Bailey stands before them.

"Ugh. Out, people." Dr. Yang immediately calls as they start to dissipate, "I'm sorry, but at least it's nothing serious.", she murmurs to Meredith while walking out.

"Exactly. Thank you.", Bailey exhales to the others as they leave.

"Grey, seriously? What happened now? I have been looking for all of you, I am no tutor.", George is quickly retrieving everything on her back.

"She's not feeling well.", he justifies.

"I'm fine. I'm fine.", she speaks over him and sighs at her boss, "we were just trying to get rid of a minor bug I have. I'm sorry. We're sorry."

They intent to walk past her but Miranda is fast to withdraw the file George was holding on his back, she flaps it open. Her eyes drift to both interns, she takes a deep breath in order not to show the annoyance that she gets every time her students keep mixing their personal lives with medicine.

"Dr. Bailey, I was paged.", Addison bursts in but the tension stops her. "Am I interrupting? You can look for me later, or-" she looks over her colleague's shoulder assuming this has to do with what she was reached for and takes no time to put the pieces together. Meredith's blush and stiffness, O'Malley's obvious desperation to be dismissed and Bailey's attempt to keep her from reading. "Was this some kind of joke?", she offendedly glances up, "Not that it'd surprise me at this point,"

"-Off! The kids.", Bailey turns around, stands between the surgeon and her students. "Dr. Grey, Dr. O'Malley, back to work.", she says with her back to them and they obligingly nod. All the while pleading Addison to let it go as much as she can speak without words.

"Dr. Shepherd, I expect you to not let this get to you."

Addison raises her palm exposing lack of interest, she changes the subject, "I hope you have something for me, I got paged. I have very few cases, I'm not supposed to be here at all."

"They brought in a pregnant woman in labor, Dr. Smith was delivering other baby, I paged you but she came right after.", she explains shaking her head at the recklessness of timing, not quite past Addison's eyes that seem to be making a titanic effort not to water. "Look, I-"

"Save it.", the surgeon turns around rolling her eyes at her buzzing phone.

Susan. 28 missed calls.

...

* * *

...

Derek walks into Chief Webber's office taken aback by the sudden command.

"You paged me.", he says when Richard only stares at him. He chooses to seat in sight of the solemnity.

After oppressive silence, he speaks. "Take your wife to lunch. Out. I don't know."

"Excuse me?", Derek furrows his brow, insulted at the suggestion. "Richard, I work for you. That's about all you can expect from me. The rest is my business."

"Great, so what was it when you came in here all desperate asking me for a job?"

"That's not fair."

"Exactly. Hey! Sit back, kid." Richards points at him when he fidgets to leave.

"I don't agree with this. I'm not doing what you say."

"Fine. Then you're fired."

"You don't mean that."

"No, I don't.", they look at each other. Respect taking over and preventing an outrage. Richard takes advantage, "Is it really so hard, Derek? Get along," he continues, grateful he's not being interrupted, "I found you _crying_ when she first operated solo.", he says matter-of-factly. "At least end things decently. You owe it to yourself."

Derek hoarsely contradicts him, stating how she disloyal and he's the one forced to be civil, it goes beyond his logic.

"Haven't you ever hurt her at all? Be the bigger person. _Man_ _up_."

The mutual strain vanishes when Derek, absent minded, nods.

"I want her to stay, I asked her.", at Derek's frightened eyes, he quickly adds, "She said no. And then, she said she would think about it. I'm not threatening you. But you have to face this. You can't avoid everything, there's not enough hospitals in america for you to be skipping your problems."

"I'll-uh, look for her. That's all you get."

...

* * *

...

It took a visit to the neonatal wing, a minor interchange of courtesies and 'somewhere with a view', for her to agree to talk to him. He attributes her serenity to the fact that she might finally be fed up and consequently with her guard down to nag him. It should worry him but alternately it works in use of his willingness to clear his mind.

Then it is all erased when she shows up ten minutes after him, dressed in black. Eager and then somehow furious. He can't manage to concentrate on moving on. She confronts him, pushing down his efforts to see ahead; she doesn't permit for them to swim.

There's this question, though, he wants to be honest about it.

"Is there something that you still like about me? Because if there is, I need to know. Now.", she's leaning on a viewfinder, her forearm resting on it. Challenging him with words and posture.

He steps close to her face, studies her. Her hand on her hip, she steadies. Cold weather makes her skin look velvet soft, too white. After years of turning casual talks into nonverbal/non-physical communication, he'd learnt that her upper lip always curled up ever so slightly when she talked to him, the exact way his features would soften, the language their bodies had developed to make distinction, the now unconscious effect they had on each other.

"What are you doing?", he's brought back to the person he's meticulously observing, almost unaware that she is present.

"I'm searching for the something I still like.", he lies to buy himself more time. "I won't say it though.", her eyes shimmer in pale emerald color. The sun is covered in fog, as if everything was a soft black and white, then her lips, hair and eyes would give a hint of vibrance to the picture.

"Why?", if only she were to give him space in silence to reach into their core.

"I'm not here to please you. I'm exhausted. You're exhausting. I was...exhausted.", he stays on surface, reminded of the reason why he might have turnt to distance after all. Five or ten steps past her on the railing. She joins him.

"So you recognize you were avoiding me?", she questions as if she's able to read his mind.

"I didn't know I was doing it", he considers this and tries further, "Why are you fighting for this?"

"Why are you fighting it?"

"Unbelievable. Not one conversation without competing."

"You're right."

"Excuse me? Too late to humor me."

"Is it?", she makes him drop the contest with another real question by letting him ponder the rest of his thoughts instead of blocking them. He's appreciative of the abrupt silence.

Passers by stroll in different directions, very few of them, barely crossing each other. He wishes for distraction. The emptiness of the spacious dock in tune with the weather, in contrast with his confused wife standing before him just as clueless as him.

"I-I don't know, Addie. I'm sorry.", it's his opportunity to dig deeper into the lack of annoyance he's experiencing, it might lead to the next page, "I care. That, I know...What I don't know is if I want," he rephrases. "It's...a lot of work. You are a lot of work. You need reassurance so much. It's just… it's never enough. Nothing is ever enough for you.", when it didn't come out as it felt, he realized it sounded derogatory, like blaming her for a habit he once helped her build. Being absorbing.

"Nothing is ever enough for you either.", surely she wasn't going to permit it.

"You were.", he surprises her.

"Past tense."

"More like a stand by. You don't trust me."

"You may be right."

"Why, though?"

She shrugs. Almost half of her life shared with him and the fear of losing the safety he meant kept blinding her. At their best, it didn't show up to haunt her; in times of doubt, it's no use to wonder where that lead.

"What do you want from me, Addison?"

"You asked me to come here, I should be asking you that."

"I want you to answer."

"Me? Okay, it's simple, really. What I want is for us to just...I wish we could get past this and you know… do the rest at our pace."

"If that were as easy as it sounds," he pauses for long. "Fine.", he murmurs.

"Really?"

He affirms and leans his back on the railing, presses his temples with middle finger and thumb.

"Your migraine."

She takes her chances and places her warm left hand on his nape, he feels the scarcely cold contrast of her rings. When he doesn't wince, she gently massages her way up the back of his skull. Whether they are moving forward or not, staying in Seattle or going back home, doesn't seem important because she's standing close to him and he's not pushing back.

"Go home. Sleep it off-trailer! Sorry.", her cheeks flush, she folds her arms. "Plus, you're on call anyway this weekend. They'll page if they need you."

He can't help but smirk at the correction and turns to her. If only he could pretend nothing ever happened. He pushes down the thought when he realizes he's staring at her parted lips. He could trace their form in the dark, feel them by mere thought. He's suddenly grateful to sensory memory for being able to retain their impression. Otherwise he'd lean closer now and it would have to mean something.

He looks down at the untouched brown bag between them. He chose the spot, she chose what they were having which remains a mystery to him.

"Weren't we having lunch?", he releases the tension.

"Are you hungry?"

He shakes his head.

"Well, go."

She calls his name before he walks. He looks back at her. Relent, is a good term to describe their countenance, but there's a lot more behind it. Truce. Is it truce? The possibility of waving a white flag.

"Thanks for...um… talking to me" they're both looking ahead, their gaze focused on the city, the water, the clouds, whatever that is not each other. "I… didn't know you felt that way.", when he doesn't leave or acts defensive, she goes on, "You were always enough, Derek. I guess. I don't- I didn't consider. I mean, before the practices and… everything. I know that now." she observes his profile, neat and sharp. She's still unable to differ if he is this attractive or that's just how she sees him. "You _are_ enough. I really am-"

"-Sorry.", he completes. "Yeah, you've said that too much already, Addie."

He's about to go past her, his moves are slow. He's leaving, not walking away. Right next to her, his left shoulder merely brushing hers, he turns to emit a sort of goodbye and she risks their closeness by placing a faint kiss near his ear. They exchange surrendered smiles and he's gone.

...

* * *

...

The light on Addison's door flashes green for her to push it open and simultaneously her stomach tenses, she dials the familiar number before stepping in.

Voicemail. She must be in clinical session.

 _This is Dr. Blake, please leave a message after the tone and I will call you back. I appreciate your patience._

She presses the red button to cancel, ignoring Susan's 36 missed calls, turning around and choosing to follow her gut.

...

* * *

...

"You could've texted.", with only one eye opened, Derek tries to focus on his wife past his front door.

"You don't reply. I stopped texting you like a year ago.", he opens the door, steps back to let her in. She doesn't attempt to move but hands him a cup of coffee. "I added milk. Lots of it. Well, the bartender, but you know."

He takes it, blinking his eyes. "Are you, do you want to come in?"

"She's been here.", she meant to enounce that with a question mark but ended up stating it.

"You slept with Mark in my bed."

"You live in a trailer."

"You knew."

"I hadn't really pictured it."

"I own the land."

Then this means he plans to stay or maybe it was just impulse. She could tease him about it saying she's supposed to be the impulsive one, but she doesn't want to get an insulting comeback.

He's thinking of offering something, host for her. But he doesn't have much plus she brought her own boiling hot coffee. Holding it with both hands so she has something to cling to.

While they both wander internally he grabs his jacket and walks out, sits on the edge of his porch.

Of what's supposed to be the porch.

He's enjoys the burning sensation each swallow brings. He's more awake thanks to it. It's a gesture they've always had toward each other. Coffee. His with a shot of espresso, evaporated milk; hers black, double shot. Although, he's less complicated, he'll have it almost any other way.

Addison tends to think in plural, they both have since they met. Until they weren't smart enough to put their careers appart. They had never needed to do so.

"I know I was...indifferent.", he takes part, accepting her presence and for once wanting to change how he feels about it. "I was absent. Indifferent toward you."

"Derek.", the way she says his name as a full sentence, most of the time he's able to listen what her tone implies. This time it's a sort of plead not to argue, she needed an excuse to see him after their late not-quite-lunch, he fakes not to read into it.

"I guess, I never thought…I don't know.", that she would betray him in such way he means. He's in need to get past the constantly avoided confrontation. Meredith grounded his actions, she was what he most felt accountable for. The guilt for how he allowed her to think the very best of him, all the while he pretended nothing fatal was going to happen because of a single conversation that he refused to have. It's desperation what's dragging him to act.

"I do. I, I understand."

"Why then?"

"I missed you, I went crazy, I've already said it-"

"Stop putting the blame on me."

"I am taking responsibility but _there was a reason_ , Derek, I didn't plan-"

"Forget it. I really don't wanna hear that _he was just there._ ", he shakes his head at how redundant they remain. "How dare he?."

They mourn together for a moment.

The crisp sound of the wind and far away crickets sets a solemn mood. Everything feels too spacious in Seattle. Perhaps it's the woods right now, but earlier as well, this entire past month. At least it is the opposite of the rush where they crashed. Then again, it's something they could be using to their benefit. Together. She misses him, curses herself for repeating it.

"It wasn't about him."

"What?", he empties his cup.

"It really wasn't about him. _I_ know that _. He_ knew it then. I, he was-"

"Just there."

"No, no. I mean yes, but, I was ranting. I kept asking-", her voice trails off.

"Finish the line, Addison."

"I asked him if there was something wrong with me.", it feels humiliating to have to admit it, she understands her previous level of anxiety but is not able to justify it anymore, "I asked that over and over those days...I'm not proud of that. He said what I, guess, I needed to hear… and then feel."

"You never asked me."

"Oh yeah, in our monosyllabic conversations, I should have-", they're not in the position to stand comebacks and keep on moving, though, she retracts. "I know."

"It wasn't about him.", is all she manages to affirm after they hush, back where they started.

He nods, for some reason he believes it, "And now we're here."

They share an extended silence, it's free of tension, which on both parts is a whole new level of grief. Acceptance.

"But with Meredith, was it.?..That _was_ about her. Still is," she shrugs to minimize her words, in hope that he didn't match them. She's regretful for having spoken without having ordered her thoughts first.

"Unlike you and Mark, I wasn't planning on meeting her, or everything that happened after."

She nods. It's not what a resolution, it's him hurting. At least they're talking, she pushes further, aware of her own pain.

"Would this be different if you hadn't met her?"

"Addison.", there he goes now, using her name as a full sentence. Their intimate language goes beyond their dominance.

"I need to know, I'm sorry.", her voice is hoarse.

"You took too long."

"I was… I looked for you. I... expected you to come back."

"I live here."

"I-I'm trying to do the right thing-"

"Those morals tho.", he raises his eyebrows in disapproval but then looks down, slowly shaking his head. His gesture for implying he's done for the day.

She lets it pass, grateful for the peace of heart and mind she feels when they inch closer.

"Should I let us go?", her words are paused and undemanding.

He slightly lifts his shoulders.

"Derek,"

He locks his eyes with hers to let her know he's planning to answer but needs to take time. He thinks of Meredith, her insistence on being left to move on; Richard, intruding; the urgency he's fighting to ask her if she's cold because her nose is pink at the top; he's still against adjusting to everybody else's timing. Their eyes blink at the same accord. It softens him more than he would prefer. He shakes his head in response and his lips curve close to a smile.

Her heart skips a beat, her knee twitches toward his. It's the cold of her bones, or her unbearable desire to close the distance between them. She stills it with her hand, crosses her right leg over it, and nods returning his almost smile. Whether he meant 'not yet', or 'not at all' doesn't seem to matter, she doesn't ask.

"I hate Seattle," she breaks the quietude in search to shush her inner despair.

"I know."

They both chuckle. He reaches for her thigh but pulls back before she notices, he grabs her coffee cup instead and swallows the last of it, lukewarm. She'd never finish lukewarm coffee.

...

* * *

...

"Dear?", Dr. Myrtle Blake crosses the entrance of her husband's office. It's late, he's going through a file.

"Yes, Myr?", he's wholly directed to his reading, it takes a while before he glances up. He's quick to study her rigid form, staring at him with crossed arms and evident deep slow breaths. Her eyeglasses over her carefully blown head. She hasn't moved from the door frame. "Are you okay?"

"Dr. Shepherd's case."

He regards her disapprovingly, "I told you it was going to end up bad, Myrtle. You are too attached, it's very unlike you. What's so deep about it? It's a marital conflict, either they end up together or they don't. Didn't you say she filed for divorce just yesterday?"

" _That_ is the problem.", she walks up to his desk and rests her back on the bookshelf behind it. He's looking at her over his glasses. "Do you remember Susan from Connecticut?, your patient."

"You mean our patient?.", he's fast to reply. Dr. Stephen Blake, he doesn't waste time. Not ever. His expressive dark eyebrows that contrast his silver hair narrow in confusion, "You may have gone too far back in time. But exactly, that is the perfect example. Those are real problems."

"She was just here, Stephen.", her earnestness makes him drop his chaste tone.

"Susan?"

She nods

"What about her?"

"Addison is Adrian Montgomery and Beatrice Forbes' daughter."

Oh.

...

* * *

 _..._

 _ **Author's Notes:** I beg you to review, thank you for coming back! Next chapters are there waiting to be polished, I swear! _


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